


do you remember the fireworks back then?

by sprbs



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, But only if you're Changbin, But the sentiment is still thriving, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, I know it's passed Valentine's Day, Love Letters, M/M, Secret Admirer, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22794901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprbs/pseuds/sprbs
Summary: No one would ever suspect Kim Seungmin to be the type to slip love letters into his best friend's bookbag for Valentine's Day, but love makes some people do weird things.
Relationships: Kim Seungmin/Seo Changbin
Comments: 29
Kudos: 242





	do you remember the fireworks back then?

**Author's Note:**

> for seungbin nation, since we are so deprived. title taken from oh my girl's remember me.
> 
> *user has been changed from fairychen to sprbs*

Seungmin thinks his plan is foolproof. Actually, he  _ knows _ his plan is foolproof. He’ll slip a white envelope, unassuming aside from the gaudy sparkled heart sticker that will seal both the letter and his declaration of love, into his bag every day until Valentine’s day. Then, on the big day itself, he’ll reveal himself in the most grandeur fashion, with rose petals adorning their apartment and tender words spilling from his lips in a manner that will resemble Jisung and his obnoxious efforts to woo a clueless Felix.

Well, that’s how Seungmin imagines it now, as he lies in bed on the 31st of January. Thoughts swirl in his head, more muddled the longer he’s kept awake by the vibrations that rattle the family portrait on his bedside table. The bass that emanates from Changbin’s room in waves does little to rival the thunderous pounding of Seungmin’s heart as he dreams of confessing to his best friend.

He knows the last person Changbin would expect is him. After all, Seungmin  _ isn’t  _ a sap, he’s vehemently pessimistic about love— or so his friends say. It’s a running joke within their nine-membered friend group that Seungmin is the one destined to be without love since he’s married to his studies and ambitions. In some ways, Seungmin knows they’re right. After all, he’s gunning for that Valedictorian spot to beef up his law school application, and always cites “making his parents proud” when he justifies the hours of sleep he loses over trying to make that A in his Political Theory class.

But his friends don’t know that he’s been harboring a disgustingly large crush on his best friend since he even realized he was into  _ boys.  _ His heart is filled to the brim with affection for the older, on the verge of overflowing.

This is the thought that takes him back to the now, pulls him back to his room, from the inescapable void his mind sometimes saunters into when the rational part of his subconscious has its back turned.

The bass in the background fades into soft piano chords that Seungmin’s ears strain to hear through the walls. His heartbeat descends into a gentle thrum, like a gentle knock on a door instead of a fierce pound against his ribcage, but nonetheless, not soft enough for Seungmin to forget it exists.

As Seungmin’s lulled to sleep by the dissonantly beautiful chords and clusters, he makes up his mind. He’s going to write those letters.

💌

The next morning, Seungmin's body arises of its own accord, unaccompanied by an alarm for once. He knows it's time. He's going to do it, and he's going to do it now.

He chews on his lower lip as he quietly slips out of bed and saunters to his desk on his tiptoes, as if Changbin would hear him through the walls when he doesn't have to wake up for another hour for his 8 AM.

When he seats himself in the uncomfortable desk chair, he first adjusts so the steel screws aren't stabbing into his back, and then, he slams a piece of loose-leaf notebook paper onto the table. Well, it's more of a gentle glide from hand to desk, since he doesn't want to wake Changbin.

Seungmin presses the tip of his 0.7 millimeter mechanical pencil to the left side of the paper's first line, and writes a neat, evenly sized, ' _ Dear Changbin.' _

Seungmin's heart swells with the hidden affection he's felt for Changbin for years, and his brow creases with the determination reserved for men hellbent on confessing. He's going to tell Changbin of the way his stupid cocky smirk makes his hearts do flips and somersaults in his chest, how Changbin's kind and attentive nature inspires Seungmin to be a better person, and how he'd wade through rivers miles wide just to be by his side.

But then he stops. 

None of those words are him. Kim Seungmin may have a lot of affection for a certain compressed rapper, but he  _ isn't a sap. _ At least, not in the traditional way. He certainly adores Changbin's stupid smile, but the onlybodily reaction he's had to its sight is a slow warmth that spreads throughout his chest like molasses. 

So instead, he writes, 

_ Dear Changbin, _

_ Today, you're receiving the first of 14 letters. I plan to give you one every day leading up to Valentine's Day. This one shall be short and sweet: someone out there cherishes your presence more than you know. Always remember that. _

_ Love, _

_ Sky _

Seungmin cracks a smile at the simple yet heartfelt words.  _ These  _ words are  _ his _ and only his, not gaudy, romantic buffoonery. It feels right as he neatly folds the piece of paper into thirds and slides it into the envelope. True to his bedtime thoughts, Seungmin wields a red, sparkly heart sticker he'd picked up from the corner store last weekend, and pastes it so the envelope is sealed shut.

Seungmin tiptoes from his room, careful not to step on the creakiest parts of the floor as he passes Changbin’s room. He lets out a soft exhale once he sees Changbin’s bookbag just where he’d hoped: lying on the couch, papers strewn from its zippered opening and spilling onto the floor like a white cellulose waterfall. The sight also pricks at his heart when he remembers this is so utterly out of character for Changbin; the elder is always comfortably disorganized and messy, but never so careless with his things.

Nevertheless, Seungmin has a task to accomplish. So, he slides the letter into the largest pocket in Changbin’s bookbag so that it’s lost amongst the other papers without a home.

Just as Seungmin slips back into his room, he hears Changbin wake with a loud, whiny groan to accompany the hellish sound of his phone’s stock alarm sound.

He returns to the safety beneath his wool blankets atop his bed and lies in wait for the next step of Changbin’s Monday-Wednesday routine.

“Seungminnie!” comes Changbin’s whiny trill that resonates in the hallway outside Seungmin’s door. Seconds after, the door creeps open, and Seungmin’s eyes slip shut so he can play along with Changbin’s game.

A weight plops onto Seungmin’s chest, so he breaks his faux-slumber with soft laughter and a deep  _ oof.  _ No matter how many times Changbin follows the same routine, and no matter how many times Seungmin pretends he’s annoyed by the way Changbin wakes him up on these mornings, it’s a moment he cherishes.. It’s a private moment reserved for him and Changbin only. To Changbin, it may just be another way to annoy his  _ favorite dongsaeng _ , but to Seungmin, it’s a reminder that Changbin never forgets about Seungmin, even when stress rests on his shoulders like an iron cloak.

So maybe Seungmin  _ is  _ a bit of a sap when he thinks about it.

“Get off of me,  _ hyung _ ,” Seungmin whines as he pushes feebly at Changbin’s chest. Even if Seungmin had pushed with all his strength, it would be no use. Changbin is a koala whose body is made of iron, and when he latches onto anything, he doesn’t let go unless he wants to. So, Changbin buries his face in the crook of Seungmin’s face instead, and mocks Seungmin’s nasally voice with, “I can’t Seungminnie, I’m locked in place!” As if to emphasize himself, Changbin pretends to tug himself off Seungmin, only to fail miserably. “Plus, I know you love it.”

Seungmin ignores the funny way his heart pounds out of his chest and says, “You think I would love you coming into my room every other morning like a leech?” He scoffs. “You’re not even warm! You’re a frozen leech and I hate you.”

Seungmin knows that Changbin rolls his eyes by the quick flutter of eyelashes against his neck that sends shivers running down his body. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know how you really feel even if you try to deny it.” Changbin finally pushes himself off Seungmin’s chest, and now Seungmin can breathe, and not because of the physical weight lifted from his chest.

He furrows his brows as soon as he sees Changbins pinched fingers approaching his cheek. Changbin pinching Seungmin’s cheek with a soft, high-pitched “So cute!” is a rather new addition to Changbin’s morning routine, but it’s the most fatal. 

As Changbin leaves to shower, Seungmin wonders if he’s gained weight in his face, or if Changbin suddenly began to find him cute. Seungmin stares at the ceiling as if the answers he seeks were painted over the drywall.

After twenty minutes of intense contemplation, Seungmin removes himself from the cozy sheath of his comforter and pads into the living room. Changbin’s already done with his shower; his hair is dripping wet and he’s fully dressed as he’s bent over the couch. It takes more than a few seconds for Seungmin’s groggy mind to register why Changbin’s staring at the paper for a few minutes, but when he does, his eyes widen exponentially. He’s already found the letter. He takes a deep yet shaky breath that he hopes Changbin can’t hear. Thoughts swirl through Seungmin’s already foggy brain, a concoction that began as an assortment of every color but slowly turns black the more it swirls. The only coherent string of words his mind can conjure up is, “Changbin-hyung?”

Changbin turns around at the call of his name. Seungmin winces, half expecting Changbin to look alarmed, accusatory, or even disgusted _. 'Heknowsheknowsheknows'  _ loops through his mind like a muddled mantra. When they lock eyes, Changbin’s  _ smiling.  _

“Look, Seungminnie!” Changbin says as he holds the paper out for Seungmin. “Someone must’ve slipped a love note into my bag yesterday without me noticing.” Seungmin takes the paper with a shaky hand. His eyes flick over the familiar words. They mock him for being so foolish as to confess to his best friend. The phantom laughter of pixies rings in his ears, but a soft, nasally voice cuts through their teasing.

“I don’t know who it is, though, which is a shame. It’s really cute, even if it’s a bit too early for Valentine’s Day.” Seungmin can only respond with a whispered  _ yeah  _ as the paper returns to Changbin’s grasp so he can slip it back into the envelope and into his bag. “Well, I hope whoever this Sky is, they reveal themselves soon. But anyway, gotta go now, so see you, Seungminnie.” With a ruffle of Seungmin’s hair, Changbin departs, taking Seungmin’s heart with him.

When the door shuts, Seungmin releases the largest breath he’s ever held. In some weird twist of fate,  _ Changbin doesn’t know.  _ All he has to do now is survive the two weeks leading up until Valentine’s Day.

💌

“You know, Min, I thought Jisung was bad with his stupid googoo eyes for Felix, but you...you really take the cake. The whipped cake,” says Hyunjin, who’s sitting on his own bed with a notebook perched on his lap.

“Nothing I would ever want to do would be as bad as that,” replies Seungmin, who sits on Jisung’s bed that’s adjacent to Hyunjin’s. He swings his legs back and forth like a pendulum, since Jisung’s bed is lofted so high. I mean, really, the second-shortest of all their friends lofts his bed so high that even Hyunjin can’t leap on top of it? Ridiculous. However, Seungmin situates his lower lip between his teeth, nibbling every now and then to keep his mind off his nerves. He may be safe for now, but there are two weeks until Valentine’s Day, so two weeks for Changbin to deduce that Seungmin is  _ Sky. _

“You have a point,” Hyunjin says as he tosses his notebook off to the side with a huff, clearly frustrated with the material mere minutes after he began studying it. “But still, it’s a little cheesy. I expected you of all people to like, punch Changbin-hyung and then tell him you like him, or something. Not to write letters.”

Seungmin shrugs and picks at a loose thread on the throw blanket draped over Jisung’s bed. “If I knew whether or not Changbin liked me, maybe I’d be a little more confident, but this will have to do for now.”

Hyunjin snorts. “The only way Changbin would  _ not  _ like you was if he was possessed or something. He’s literally all over you twenty-four-seven, Min. You’re too smart to not notice that.”

“I’m just not someone who likes to assume things. It makes--”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, Min. You say that all the time, but this isn’t assuming. I’ll put it in terms your stupid school-brain might understand. It’s an  _ educated guess. _ How about that?”

In lieu of a verbal response, Seungmin wields Jisung’s rather large and tattered pig plush, and launches it into Hyunjin’s face. Hyunjin shrieks a shriek worthy of a noise complaint to their floor’s RA as he’s met with a face-full of polyester and cotton.

“Asshole,” Hyunjin says, but it sounds oddly distant when Seungmin unlocks his phone that had vibrated a few times in the midst of his assault on Hyunjin.

**From: Pizza Hyung Changbin**

Seungminnie! I’ve already had two classes today and I can’t think of anyone that might’ve slipped the letter into my bag. No one really talks to me in these classes!

**To: Pizza Hyung Changbin**

I can’t believe I’m helping you, but it was probably someone from your Tuesday/Thursday classes.

**From: Pizza Hyung Changbin**

SEUNGMIN YOU’RE RIGHT

**From: Pizza Hyung Changbin**

YOU’RE SO SMART THANK YOU

“Is Changbin really that oblivious?” comes Hyunjin’s voice from besides Seungmin’s ear. Seungmin jerks to the side, away from the elder, and furrows his brows. 

“Stop being so nosy, Hyunjin, it’s not good for you;” he says as he shuts his phone and sets it off to the side to be lost in the sea of all Jisung’s blankets, away from Hyunjin’s prying eyes. 

“Did I lie? He didn’t even think about having different classes on different days.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes as he returns to his bed.

“He’s just been stressed lately. Stress makes people scatterbrained.”

Hyunjin hums skeptically, but makes no move to continue that conversation. Instead, he says, “Wanna grab something to eat with Jisung and Felix before your next class? They’re already at the dining hall.”

“Sure.”

💌

(Sometimes, Seungmin detests his friends. The evil gleam in Jisung’s eye as Seungmin and Hyunjin approach with their food is more than telling. He knows about the letter that Seungmin wrote Changbin, and Hyunjin is a  _ dirty snake _ . Seungmin glares at the back of Hyunjin’s head as they sit, and in his peripheral, Jisung struggles to hold back laughter from behind his palm.

“So, Seungmin,” begins Jisung, but Seungmin promptly interrupts him with, “Save it, Jisung, give me time to eat before you bombard me with your dumb questions.” Jisung has the audacity to look offended, but drops it anyway in favor of stuffing his cheeks with college food.)

💌

When Seungmin returns home after 45 minutes of Jisung-induced suffering, otherwise known as interrogation, and a 2 hour long lecture, he’s beyond exhausted. It’s only early evening and he wants to collapse into the soft expanse of his university-issued twin-XL bed and be swallowed up by the sea of blankets.

But it seems that fate has different plans for him, because Changbin’s seated on the couch in their common room, looking all sorts of boyfriend material (Chan’s words, not his) with his comfy lounge clothes and the beanie that he’s definitely only wearing because he didn’t want to deal with the rat nest on his head this morning.

Changbin turns to him with a blinding smile, but it’s not enough to still the intense beating of Seungmin’s heart that ensues when he sees that damned piece of looseleaf paper in Changbin’s hands again. “Hi, Seungminnie, how were your classes?” When Seungmin just shrugs in response, Changbin continues. “I keep reading this letter and trying to like, analyze the handwriting or something. To at least figure out if it’s a boy or a girl.” Then, he tacks on with a whine, “Come help me with this, Seungminnie? You’re a lot smarter than me.”

Seungmin sighs to mask and seats himself next to Changbin. He hates how small the couch is, barely large enough to fit two people. Seungmin’s sense of peace, too, is barely large enough to handle Changbin resting his chin on his shoulder in the most unnecessary way.

He grasps the paper tight so as not to reveal how his hands shake just slightly. He contemplates for a moment--should he say it’s a boy? A girl? His handwriting is certainly neat enough to be ambiguous. He hums like he’s deep in thought. After a few moments, the words just come tumbling from his lips: “I think it’s a boy. It’s neat, sure, but not all guys have messy handwriting. Just gives me those vibes.” He sets the paper down quickly, as if it’d burn him if he held onto it any longer.

“I think you’re right, Seungmin,” Changbin says without missing a beat, with the sincere tone of voice that makes Seungmin’s heart ache. “Thanks for helping. I’ll look for a neat guy in one of my classes tomorrow.”

And so, Changbin detaches himself from Seungmin, and takes the letter with him, holding it like something to be treasured. “I’m gonna go work on this track now. I’ve had a lot of inspiration lately, so I think it’ll be something good for once. See you later, Seungminnie. Make sure you eat something before you go to bed, I know you’re tired.”

Seungmin can barely look Changbin in the eyes as he smiles up at him tenderly, and Changbin smiles down the same.

“Thanks, hyung _.”_

💌

Seungmin makes himself wait an entire week before he even lets himself think about writing a letter, forgoing his plan to write letters daily. Changbin hasn’t been much help for that; the letter and its writer is all Changbin seems to talk about when he’s with Seungmin. He details how he may think it’s this boy in his composition class, or the guy who sits next to him in his piano class, or even the kid who probably hates him out of his music theory class, but that’s a bit of a stretch, even if Changbin calls himself a sucker for an enemies to lovers trope.

But as Seungmin sits at his desk now, he’s more than a little miffed how Changbin’s been so fixated on the writer being anyone other than Seungmin. Changbin’s so excited to find a writer who isn’t Seungmin, so who’s to say he won’t be disappointed when he finds out the writer  _ is  _ Seungmin? An ugly part of his head chastises him for trying to confess since Changbin is his best friend and only sees him as his best friend. It tries to convince him that he’s betrayed Changbin’s trust and friendship. But the angel on his shoulder that sounds suspiciously like Changbin ropes him back to reality, and he grips the pencil even tighter. He begins to write.

_ Dear Changbin, _

_ I’m guessing that you’re unsuccessful in figuring out my identity since I still haven’t heard a word from you about this letter. Then again, I know I made it hard to figure out on purpose. Your determination to figure out who I am is really admirable, but so are many of my favorite things about you. Your drive to always impr-- _

“Seungminnie!“

_ Shit.  _ Seungmin gasps. He scrambles for something, anything, to throw over the paper. His heart pounds wildly in his chest as he opens the bottom right drawer of his desk to retrieve his Political Theory textbook, too thick for words. He slams it over the piece of paper and opens it to some random page. Then the door creaks open, and Seungmin takes deep breaths so he doesn’t seem too suspicious when Changbin approaches.

Seungmin still faces his desk, staring at the wall, when he feels the warmth radiating from Changbin’s face over his shoulder. Changbin makes a noise next to his ear. “Are you doing homework? Gross. I have something better for you instead.”

Seungmin, whose heartbeat subsides to normalcy for now, turns around in his wheely desk chair with a brow raised. He almost chokes when he notices Changbin’s wearing a muscle shirt he’d made by taking a pair of scissors to one of his old t-shirts, but somehow he manages to keep a straight face and speak.

”And what is that?”

“I want you to listen to the song I told you about last week. It’s still in the instrumental stages, but I think I might almost be done with that part. I just need a second opinion before I start adding the lyrics to it.”

As the loyal friend he is, Seungmin follows him into his room and plops into the second desk chair that Changbin has reserved specifically for moments like this. He watches silently as Changbin goes through folders—it’s eerie, the way that the only discernible noise in the room is the quiet click of Changbin’s mouse as he opens files.

“Here,” Changbin says softly, and slips his headphones over Seungmin’s head. He pushes Seungmin’s hair out of the way so the strands aren’t trapped beneath, and adjusts the top so it fits snugly on Seungmin’s head. Then, he clicks play.

Seungmin immediately recognizes the piano chords that slowly fade in to begin the song. They’re the same chords that seeped through the wall separating their bedrooms the night he’d silently declared it was time to profess his love for Changbin. He shuts his eyes as he soaks in the way the chords transition from consonant to dissonant. The chords crescendo into a clear beginning of a verse, if the soft drum beat that fades in beneath is any indication.

Soon, the piano chords are merely the foundation for the song, and sounds continue to layer as the piece transitions into the chorus. The chorus is soft, soothing, yet more energetic than the rest of the song, with the way gentle synth is added and more modulated drum beats.

The song is amazing.

But the bridge is what really drives the stake into Seungmin’s heart. He even gasps softly.

There’s a subtle key change. The song crescendos further and further into the final chorus, and the only way he can describe the melodic line that plays through the bridge is transcendental. He’s never heard anything like this, with so much emotion woven into the close harmonies and sweet melody.

When Seungmin finally opens his eyes and slips the headphones off his head, he voices his thoughts with the only word that seems fitting enough: “Wow.”

He looks at Changbin, who breaks into a smile the minute the exclamation parts from his lips. The smile is so contagious that Seungmin lips slip into a wide smile of their own. They lock eyes, just for a moment, and Seungmin swears he feels electricity. But then, Changbin blinks and looks away, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Is it really that good?” he murmurs.

Seungmin responds firmly. “Yes. God, hyung, that bridge. That was otherworldly. I’ve really never heard anything like it. I love everything you’ve ever made me listen to, but there’s just something so different about this one, I can _feel_ it. You’re so talented, _hyung_ , I mean it,” Seungmin says, smiling wildly and gesticulating with his hands, a representation of how he can’t find the right words to express how he feels, only movement.

When his gaze returns to Changbin is looking down at his desk, lips pushed into a subtle pout. Seungmin finds it too endearing for his own good.

“Thanks, Seungminnie,” he mumbles, more to the desk than to Seungmin. “I’m really glad you like it.” Then, a bit louder, he continues. “I worked really hard on it. I’ve never put so much blood, sweat, and tears into a piece before, I swear.” He cuts himself off with a chuckle. “I’ve already started writing some of the lyrics too, and once I line them up with the melody, I’ll let you listen to it.” Changbin sits back in his chair with another laugh. “I really think it’s gonna be my magnum opus or whatever, especially now that you like it so much.” Seungmin racks his brain for whatever the hell  _ that  _ means, but all that his brain spits out is political theory from his recitation earlier.

Instead, he laughs.

“I’m looking forward to it, hyung. But I have to get back to that homework now, you know how it is.”

Changbin waves him off with a quick thanks for listening, and just as quickly as he had left, Seungmin is back in his desk chair. This time however, he slowly lifts the Political Theory textbook with a wince. He lets out a sigh of relief when he notices the paper remains pristine and uncreased, right where he left it. So, he picks up the pen and writes quickly, as if Changbin would barge right into his room again and see his entire heart splayed out on a piece of notebook paper.

_...ove yourself inspires me to make myself a better person too. You’re loyal and dedicated to everything in your life. I aspire to be that way. Now, as Valentine’s grows nearer, hopefully my bravery will grow too. _

_ P.S. Keep looking hard. _

_ Love, _

_ Sky _

Within moments, the letter is neatly folded into thirds, just like before, and slipped into a plain white envelope. This time, however, a plethora of heart stickers adorn the envelope along with one to seal it shut. Seungmin thinks it may seem a bit childish as he shoves the letter between pages 324 and 325 in his Political Theory textbook, but at least it gets the point across. In the morning, he’ll find some way to slip it into Changbin’s bag. For now, he sleeps, with Changbin’s gentle piano playing looping through his dreams.

💌

(The next day, Seungmin slips the letter into Changbin’s bag when he uses the bathroom during their lunch together.

When Changbin confronts him about it later, he coos over the cute heart stickers, and whines about how he still doesn’t know who it is, since he didn’t find it until after his last class finished.

Changbin's confident he’ll reveal himself by Valentine’s Day, though. Seungmin still shakes, but he has half a mind to laugh to himself, too. Changbin has no idea.)

💌

On Valentine’s Day morning Seungmin wakes up refreshed. Well, as refreshed as a college student can be. Seungmin has no classes, and Changbin has only a short lecture. He springs out of bed and hunts for the third and final letter he wrote the night prior. Thankfully, it’s still slotted beneath his pillow, right where he left it. This time, it’s within a pink envelope, and the letter is signed off by  _ Seungmin  _ instead of  _ Sky.  _

Although Seungmin is determined, his nerves are still haywire and his stomach feels queasy as he pulls the envelope out. He has to be smart about it when he slips this letter into Changbin’s bag. 

The idea comes to Seungmin like a prophecy sent from the heavens: he’ll slip the letter into the notebook Changbin uses for the class he attends on Fridays. That way, Changbin won’t see it until he arrives to his class, and Seungmin will have plenty of time to mentally prepare himself before Changbin returns home, hopefully with a return of Seungmin’s heartfelt sentiment.

Seungmin still doesn’t consider himself a romantic, but he realizes now that there’s something oddly invigorating about pouring sappy words of love onto a page and lying in wait for the subject of your affections to notice.

So, Seungmin walks into the common room just as the squeak of turning spigots rings from their shared bathroom. Perfect. Seungmin promptly retrieves the black notebook from Changbin’s bookbag, and slips the letter between two pages somewhere near the center. After returning the notebook to its home between two textbooks, Seungmin saunters back to his room. He’s still shaking by the time he flops onto his bed, but at least he’s accomplished his quest for the day. Now, all he has to do is wait for Changbin to leave and come home. With his fingers crossed, Seungmin hopes it’s with his own declaration of love.

💌

The forty-five minutes between Changbin’s departure and his estimated return are the most agonizing forty-five minutes of his life. Seungmin is beyond bored out of his mind as he sits on the couch in the common room, absentmindedly flicking through the channels that the university’s bare-minimum cable service offers. When Seungmin flips past the same three news channels five consecutive times, he finally shuts the little flatscreen off, and decides to lie in wait.

It’s eerily quiet. But soon, the pounding of Seungmin’s heart rushes into his ears, and he’s sucked into the deep abyss of his mind. Images of Changbin coming home to vehemently reject him flick through his mind like remnants of the horror movies Changbin loves to watch with him on the occasional weekend. Seungmin’s heart pleads with his mind, for he knows Changbin’s too tender-hearted to do anything other than let him down gently, but his mind does not listen.

The connection’s cut off when the door suddenly clicks open, but the beating of Seungmin’s heart continues to pound like a summer thunderstorm, threatening to burst right from his ribcage. Seungmin’s eyes meet Changbin’s and Seungmin’s throat goes bone-dry. As if a sea witch had stolen his voice in exchange for legs, Seungmin cannot speak. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, but the words refuse to come out.

“Hey, Seungminnie. Hope your Friday was relaxing,” is what Changbin says to fill the silence. he smiles as if he hadn’t just ripped Seungmin’s heart out of his chest and stomp on it in their common room. And then, he leaves for his room. As soon as Changbin’s door clicks shut, hot tears prick at the corners of Seungmin’s eyes.

Is Changbin doing this on purpose? This feels even worse than rejection. At the very least, Seungmin wants his feelings to be acknowledged. He would rather be rejected than outright ignored. The fact that it might be a mistake, that maybe Changbin thought it was a different Seungmin, or maybe didn’t see it at all, crosses his mind, but it leaves as quickly as it came, replaced by negative thoughts once more.

Seungmin bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes bitter iron, so the tears don’t spill. They burn like fire, but Seungmin refuses to cry. His resolve is almost broken, though, when Changbin’s door clicks open with a soft call of, “Seungminnie?”

Seungmin manages to croak out a “Yeah?” without sounding too much like he’s on the verge of crying. 

“My song is finished. I want you to come and listen to it and tell me how you feel about it.” Changbin’s voice is oddly soft at this time of day, but Seungmin pays no mind to it. Instead, he calls back with an  _ okay  _ and takes a few deep yet shaky breathes. He wipes the lingering teardrops from his eyes, and with the same determination he felt this morning, he pads to Changbin’s room. He’s not going to cry.

This time, the songs already pulled up on Changbin’s computer, but Changbin still has a death grip on his mouse as he gestures for Seungmin to don the headphones that lay atop his desk. When the headphones are situated comfortably over Seungmin’s head, he nods to Changbin, and the latter says, “here we go '' as he presses play.

Seungmin’s ears are filled with the familiar piano melody from before. This time, however, the notes are accompanied by soft hums, gentle runs, and smooth adlibs. He smiles despite himself— normally, the beginning of Changbin’s tracks are laced with heys and yeahs and a plethora of other words. This is a welcome change.

When the drumline fades in, so do the vocals…. _ oh.  _ Seungmin knows Changbin is talented across many facets, especially musically, but nothing could have prepared him for Changbin’s sweet, light singing voice. It runs through his ears like silk, wraps around him like a blanket in winter.

And then the lyrics kick in.

Changbin’s sweet, honey-like voice sings of first meetings. His pretty voice glides over words like  _ warmth  _ and  _ home  _ and  _ knew right from the start.  _

He’s singing about love.

Seungmin’s chest tightens, and suddenly he can’t breathe. The tears are back with a vengeance, pricking like hot needles against his eyelids, threatening to breach any opening, but Seungmin squeezes his eyes shut to will them away. He bites down hard on his lip, desperate for any sort of relief between his eyes and his chest, but it’s no use.

Seungmin refuses to cry, still, even as the lyrics detail journeys, closeness, and friendship. Changbin wrote  _ about someone.  _ Changbin wrote a song for someone and now Seungmin’s listening to it, and he feels like an intruder.

But he listens on.

Despite the ever-strengthening constriction within his chest, Seungmin listens on. He listens for the key change. And then, the Changbin Seungmin’s most familiar with makes his appearance. The bridge is a powerful, explosive, yet entrancing rap. Changbin spits lines about  _ navigating love and feelings,  _ about  _ confusion  _ and  _ reflection.  _ It’s gritty and emotional, like Changbin had been crying while recording. It tugs at his heartstrings.

The final chorus plays through in what seems like seconds, and soon, the track is fading. Seungmin celebrates with whatever willpower is left in his heart; he didn’t cry.

But then, he hears a whisper in the final seconds of the track, unnoticeable unless you’d been listening carefully.

“ _ For you, Kim Seungmin.” _

And he gasps. Seungmin almost throws the headphones off, but his conscious knows they’re quite expensive, even when he’s on the brink of actual hysteria. His eyes still burn with tears when he opens them, but this time, they aren’t tears of sorrow. They’re tears of happiness and a little anger.

So Seungmin does what anyone who just listened to an emotional love song written for them would do. 

He punches the composer.

The composer yelps and clutches his arm, but Seungmin only furrows his brows at his pain. “Asshole,” he says, and leans back in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest. The tightness from his chest has been unwound, but adoration in the form of anger courses through his veins in a true Kim Seungmin fashion.

“What was that for?” Changbin exclaims, still clutching his arm. So much for being beefy and muscular.

“For waltzing in here today just like normal, pretending I didn’t confess to you with a letter, making me sad because you outright ignored my proclamation of love, and then making me listen to this song without me knowing it was for me the entire time. You’re an asshole.”

Seungmin expects denial the most, or maybe even an apology, but what he doesn’t expect is, “You confessed through a letter?”

Seungmin’s jaw drops. “You didn’t see it?” he exclaims. “I even put it in your notebook and everything! Where’s your bookbag?” Seungmin stands up and snatches Changbin’s bookbag from his bed, immediately searching for that damned black notebook. When he wrenches it from the bookbag like Excalibur, he  _ ah-hahs  _ softly. He can even see a little pink corner peeking out from between the pages.

But as he splits the notebook to retrieve the envelope, Changbin laughs. It would be loud, bright, and infectious in any other scenario, but now, it’s infuriating, and only adds insult to injury. Seungmin sits there fuming, but Changbin gently takes the envelope from Seungmin’s fingers.

“Of course, Seungminnie, you’d be the only one to stick something in a notebook I don’t even use. I rarely take notes for the class I had today, and today was not one of those days, so I didn’t even bother taking it out.”

Oh.

Seungmin’s face, now hidden behind his hands, burns red hot. He refuses to look as he hears the paper slide from the envelope and Changbin’s subsequent breath he takes before he reads a lot. Seungmin’s heart thunders against his chest for the umpteenth time.

“Dear Changbin,” Changbin begins. “Since today is Valentine’s Day, I thought it was finally time to come clean, especially since you tried so hard to figure out my identity these past few weeks. You deserve to know who I am. I think that maybe, it will come as a surprise to you. I’m not exactly considered a romantic or sappy, and this was definitely a big leap outside my comfort zone. So although I struggled to write down my feelings for you, they are sincere. I’ve adored you since the moment we’ve met, really. I really don’t know what else to say besides I hope you will accept my feelings. With love, Kim Seungmin, also known as Sky.”

Seungmin groans. Writing those words was hard enough, but to hear out loud and recited to him by the subject of his affections was an entirely different ballgame.

“Seungminnie. Look at me.”

Despite every muscle in his body screaming at him to not move, he looks anyway. Nothing could have prepared him for the tender way Changbin looks at him, with eyes half-lidded and a hint of a fond smile quirking at his lips. Warmth bursts through his chest.

“You were Sky all along, huh? I should have known.” 

Seungmin nods.

Changbin breaks into a wide smile, and Seungmin could recognize the gleam in his eye from a mile away. He artfully dodges Changbin’s evil fingers, only for said man to whine at him.

“Come on, Seungminnie. You’re just so cute!”

“No,” Seungmin says without hesitation. “You aren’t allowed to pinch my cheek.”

“If I can’t pinch your cheek, can I at least get a kiss now?”

Seungmin splutters. His hands fly up to his cheeks to cover the impending pink that would slowly crawl down from his ears. This time, he says, much shakier than before, “No.”

Changbin gasps with the palm of his hand pressed over his chest. “You wound me, Seungminnie….how about this.” Seungmin gestures for him to continue. “You be my boyfriend instead.”

Seungmin huffs, looks away, and thinks for a long moment, but grumbles, “Yeah, okay, whatever.” He tries not to focus too hard on how scalding his cheeks burn by letting his eyes wander over Changbin’s bare white walls.

“Okay, boyfriend, can I get a hug?”

Seungmin’s eyes snap back to Changbin, whose arms are opened wide expectantly. He promptly stands up, bends down, and plants an aggressive kiss to the apple of Changbin’s cheek, smirking when he notices how quickly pink floods Changbin’s face.

“No.”

<3 <3 <3

“Min, when I said I expected you to punch Changbin to confess, I didn’t mean I wanted you to,” Hyunjin says the next day over another two-thousand-liner lunch. “That’s almost worse than how  _ these _ ,” he points with his fork to Jisung and Felix, who are clearly holding hands under the table while they eat,“idiot lovebirds got together.”

“Hey!” the idiot lovebirds chime in unison, but only Jisung continues to speak. “It wasn’t  _ that bad.” _

“Jisung,  _ sweetie,  _ yes it was. Jeongin had to shove Felix so hard onto you that you  _ broke your arm. _ ” Jisung pouts at the arm that’s in a cast, which is decorated with an adorable assortment of doodles and signatures. “And it was only while you screamed in agony that you realized, ‘Hey, I think my friend’s freckles are adorable and not just in a bro way!’ because Felix was so close to you” Hyunjin gesticulates wildly as he mocks Jisung, whose pout seems to deepen with every syllable that flies from Hyunjin’s mouth. “And at least Seungmin and Changbin were aware of their own feelings and didn’t need their best friend to be injured to notice,” Hyunjin finishes with a pointed glare towards Felix, who cowers under his gaze.

Seungmin grumbles as he pushes his rice around on his plate. “Really one to talk about not realizing feelings, Hyunjin. For all the love advice you love to give, you sure are unaware of yourself.”

“Listen, I do  _ not _ like Minho-hyung. I just look up to him as a dancer. He’s just a friend and men--”

“No one even mentioned Minho-hyung, Hyunjinnie,” Felix interrupts sweetly.

With raucous laughter an accompaniment to his distress, “Oh, fuck me,” says Hyunjin as he lets his fork clatter onto his tray so he can slap his hands over his face. While Jisung and Felix’s laughter remains cacophonous over Hyunjin’s groaning, Seungmin’s chuckles die down as a muffled vibration sounds from his pocket. He pulls out his phone.

From: Pizza Hyung Changbin <3

Hey, wanna grab something to eat tonight that’s not takeout or college food?

**To: Pizza Hyung Changbin <3**

Yeah, of course! See you later.

**To: Pizza Hyung Changbin <3**

…….. <3

As Seungmin pockets his phone, his mind drifts back to the letters that got him here. While he may not be a sap in any regard, nor someone with an affinity for grandiose romantic gestures, Seungmin can’t ever say he regrets writing those letters for Changbin. So maybe, just maybe, there’s a little bit of Valentine’s Day magic to be had in everyone, capitalism be damned.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, don't hestitate to message or hmu up on twt @spearbugs


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